


dave's never been innocent in his LIFE

by ang3lba3



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Boyfriends, Bulges and Nooks, Chubby Karkat, Insecurities, M/M, Multi, Nook Eating, Oral Sex, PWP, Trans Dave Strider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3
Summary: Watching movies with your boyfriends in bed is fun, but very little movie is generally watched.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunyhime95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunyhime95/gifts).



> I'd like to thank lunyhime95 for this prompt!

Karkat was soft around the edges in a way that the sweeps had never fully swept away.

 

Maybe it was the years of poor nutrition, alternating between nothing and then to the cheap processed foods he could just barely afford. Maybe it was the lack of exercise—he did what he could, but holed up in his hive and afraid to leave was a fundamental part of his existence on Alternia. 

 

Whatever was the cause, the effect was that the muscle he had gained all built under a not so easily dismissable layer of fat. The more he worked out, the more bulky he became, solid and stout, almost always flanked by Dave or Gamzee and the frankly ridiculous contrast between their builds.

 

And it’s fine, he’s handling it. If he wears baggy clothes and never looks in the mirror too long, if he doesn’t swim unless pushed into the body of water fully dressed, if he didn’t like to have sex with the lights on—that was his business. Vriska, with her deadly curves and harsh laugh and ability to find a weakness no matter how deep it’s buried, could fuck right off; Terezi, with her nearly skeletal figure and quizzical mouth and inability to reign in her fucking moirail like she should, could join her. 

 

But it didn’t matter quite as much, just a niggling voice in the back of his thinkpan, cuddled up with his boyfriends and watching some stupid human horror movie that Gamzee had picked out falsely believing it to be worth their time. Said moron is curled up against Karkat’s chest like he isn’t seven foot and growing every perigree, a parentheses tilted awkwardly over a comma. Dave had decided when they both settled in that he would lounge over their legs, head resting on Karkat’s crotch in a way that was—for once—not sexual.

 

Karkat should have realized that wouldn’t last long.  

 

It starts out innocent enough, though Karkat immediately recognizes it for what it is, Dave hiding his face at a scare and conveniently placing his mouth a scant few inches and layers of cloth above Karkat’s nook. Karkat sighs and rolls his eyes, even as his stomach twists with familiar anticipation.

 

“Fuckhead, we’re trying to watch Gamzee’s movie,” he hisses, trying to stay quiet enough that he wouldn’t disturb Gamzee’s watching. This was an impossible mission from the start, but he refuses to accept that most things are impossible and he doesn’t see why he should change that starting with his inability to keep his voice a reasonable volume.

 

Dave pouts, rucks Karkat’s shirt up a little to rest his head on the bare skin of Karkat’s stomach. Karkat looks back up at the screen sharply with a little bit of an uncomfortable tension suddenly present in his skin. 

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just nervous ‘bout these killer sharks chasing down poor Scooby and the gang.”

 

“They’re goddamn orcas,” Karkat says, but doesn’t make any move to actually push Dave away.

 

His boyfriend makes a dismissive noise, and flops a hand out to hit Gamzee’s hip. It’s situated much lower than Karkat’s hip is; Gamzee’s torso covers him from grubscars to mid-thigh. It ends in an awkwardly long moment where Karkat smugly grins at Dave’s flailing, until finally he hooks a few fingers inside of Gamzee’s waistband. He tugs the tights down until the sharp relief between hips and stomach are revealed.

 

“Off,” he demands imperiously.

 

Gamzee makes a humming noise, and starts to wiggle out of them without taking himself off of Karkat. He makes an apologetic  _ honk _ when he accidentally elbows Karkat in the stomach because he wasn’t willing to move off of him to strip.

 

Dave leans back and up onto his knees to unzip his hoodie—he’s not wearing anything underneath, and there’s that instant of jealousy when Karkat sees the faintest outline of Dave’s ribs, his nearly flat stomach, the perfectly rounded rumblespheres. It passes when Dave winks like the asshole he is and positions his face right back into Karkat’s lap. His breath ghosts through Karkat’s boxers. Karkat knows he’s blushing but can’t do much to stop it. 

 

Gamz crawl-climbs onto Karkat’s lap exactly as Dave yanks the boxers down and off, perfect synchronization come from countless practices. Karkat can see the tension in Gamzee’s thighs, the way he holds himself up so carefully as to be resting against Karkat’s bulge slit but not actually pressing his full weight down. Karkat would argue about being treated like he was made of glass, but at this point and size the only person alive who would be able to take his weight would be Vriska.  _ Maybe  _ Vriska.

 

That was an unsettling thought, and he tries to wipe the disgusted look off his face but doesn’t quite manage it. 

 

His boyfriend laughs like he can tell what he was thinking, that horribly unattractive honking noise that makes Karkat smile and twist his nose up. Karkat reaches a hand up to rest on Gamzee’s ribcage, traces the line of a grubscar with his pointed nails. Gamzee gives a happy sigh, and rests a hand on the wall to take his weight so he can curl an impossibly long way down to press a kiss to Karkat’s nose.

 

Karkat’s fingers curl into Gamzee’s wild hair and he tilts his head until their lips are touching. As if that was the secret signal, there’s a gentle kiss to his upper thigh, and then another slightly higher. His breath speeds up, mouth falling open; Gamzee takes this as permission to shove his tongue in. 

 

Gamzee kisses with about as much finesse and subtlety as he’s ever done anything else, and Karkat isn’t that much better. Their mouths act like they’re already fucking, tongues winding together, teeth clacking ungracefully, lips uncoordinated. Dave licks slow and long around the entrance to Karkat’s nook, sending the beginning of a steady thrum of pleasure up his spine.

 

His hands spasm where they rest on Gamzee’s side, nails digging in to the point where if it had been Dave the skin would have been broken; but highbloods are made of sterner things so Gamzee just rocks his hips with a hint of pressure that says he nearly forgot his size.

 

Karkat closes his eyes, breathing hard, as Gamzee pushes insistently at his shirt until it’s up and over his head. It’s still daylight, and the sun streaming through the curtains is enough to have him tilting his head away from looking at anything.

 

“Kiss him until he stops freaking out, Bozo,” Dave directs from between Karkat’s legs. His face is pulled away from Karkat’s nook, breath wet and close and humming as he speaks. Karkat isn’t sure if the fact that he isn’t licking him is a good thing, or frustrating as fuck. He understands the motivation behind pulling away—his thighs are tensed unhappily, knees edging together to try and force Dave out. Or maybe to keep him in. Karkat wasn’t too clear on that point. 

 

Gamzee complies with the order, smoothing a hand over the flesh of Karkat’s stomach, pressing a softly sucking kiss to the base of his throat. 

 

Karkat sighs, trying to get back into it, but it’s hard with Gamzee’s hands on his stomach. He wants to cringe away more than he wants to fuck, laying so exposed. 

 

“You look bitchtits ninjalicious,” Gamzee says with a note of quiet awe, as if that wasn’t a ridiculous and mockable thing to come out of someone’s mouth.

 

He must have been fucked up in love though, because it makes something warm and ashamed flush under his skin.

 

“There’s a reason you’re not the brains of this operation,” Karkat says, but the tone isn’t as harsh as the words are.

 

“Well, I am, and I agree with the clown,” Dave says, gentle fingers stroking almost soothingly over Karkat’s nook. 

 

It works, and Gamzee’s mouth back on his makes it work even better, because Karkat feels himself relaxing into the touches. There’s the building of something in his stomach that isn’t as unpleasant as the otherwise omnipresent apprehension and self doubt.

 

“Pretty motherfucker,” Gamzee breathes when he pulls back. Dave’s fingers are steadily growing more insistent, and Gamzee follows his words up with a steady and sharp dig of his nails directly on top of Karkat’s grubscars.

 

Whatever lingering inhibitions that Karkat had been suffering from, they disappeared. Dave’s mouth found its way back to his nook, licking one thick line after another; eventually he graduated to carefully sucking on the folds. His fingers tap gently, inevitably, against Karkat’s hole.

 

Gamzee rides him slow and easy and oh-so-achingly careful. He’s loose inside—he’s so big, and on a few memorable occasions Dave and Karkat have each gotten a fist inside at the same fucking time—and slick as sin. Karkat’s bulge curls desperately into a thick knot and twists there, trying to get some friction. It’s close but no caegar, and the tease is nearly painful. He can’t be doing much for Gamzee either, but he has that doped up expression like where their skin touches sopor hits his veins.

 

There’s a  _ squelch  _ as Dave’s finger finally dips into Karkat’s nook, and Karkat’s hips rocket down into the sensation. It moves his bulge almost halfway out of Gamzee, who groans disapprovingly. 

 

“You can’t be all up and doing that,” Gamzee says, settling more of his weight down to pin Karkat in place and reinsert the licorice red bulge. The pressure is just this side of painful, but then Gamzee grinds down and Karkat doesn’t seem to want to complain anymore.

 

He reaches for Gamzee’s bulge, and Gamzee breathes,  _ ah motherfuck,  _ as it twines into Karkat’s fingers. Karkat squeezes, gentle at first but then harder. Gamzee is clenching down on Karkat’s bulge now, and Dave’s making little noises that are almost hidden by the other two’s moans and grunts.

 

Dave’s finger becomes two, then three, and the long talented digits stroke at the inside of Karkat’s nook. Karkat’s breathing hard, eyes almost crossed with pleasure, unable to move his hips down into Dave or up into Gamzee. The powerlessness of his position is as frustrating as it is exciting.

 

“Are you close?” Karkat asks Gamzee, with more than a little concern about not being able to outlast him. He doesn’t answer, just adjusts himself until he can push some of his own fingers in along with the bulge.

 

“Stretch—” Gamzee cuts himself off with a gasp as Karkat’s bulge unwinds from the knot at the familiar plea. It is almost completely vertical, Karkat shaking with effort, before it hits at Gamzee’s seedflap.

 

“Fucking stupid giant,” Karkat manages between groans, the hand not occupied with Gamzee’s bulge moving to rub along his purple grubscars. Dave is making obscene little slurping noises from where his tongue flicks between Karkat’s legs.

 

Despite his best efforts, Karkat comes first, a wave of red pulsing out of his nook and into Gamzee’s seedflap and across Dave’s face. That’s the last straw for Gamzee, and as his genetic bladder fills Karkat is covered in viscous fluids, spraying from Gamzee’s bulge. It isn’t able to release from his nook, halted by the flow of Karkat’s come, mixing grape and cherry inside him into a pomegranate shade.

 

Gamzee collapses forward, dropping himself into his own mess without a thought. Dave is still going, keeps going until Karkat whines and kicks at him, and then a little more.

 

They are all quiet for a long moment, catching their breaths, Dave silent as death and slightly forgotten at the foot of the bed.

 

“You’re crushing me,” Karkat gasps out, when the comfort of Gamzee’s body pressed against his is outweighed by his massive size. Gamzee makes a sated  _ honk  _ of acknowledgement and rolls off. He overshoots the other side of the bed by a good amount, and lands with a thud that vibrates through the floor and into the bed.

 

There is no sound of pain, just a sleepy snuffle of contentment, so Karkat doesn’t worry about him. This was common enough, as far as afterglows went—getting a new bed really needed to happen sooner than later.

 

He eventually works up the effort to looks down his body and check up on Dave, whose head he can feel resting stick and silent and face-down on his thigh.

 

Dave, sensing eyes on him, glances up.

 

“Wanna help a bro out?” he says, voice thick and clogged, crawling with bony elbows and sharp knees up Karkat’s body. His face is dripping viscous red in a steady line from the tip of his chin and his nose. 

 

“What the fuck do you want?” Karkat asks, although his hand is moving languidly to press two fingers against Dave’s clit. He’s wetter than his face, and said face crumples up into a mix of desperation and relief when Karkat touches him.

 

“Jesus H Christ,” Dave says, grinding down erratically. He tosses his head back, an elegant and slightly disgusting (yet mainly erotic) spatter hitting Karkat and the headboard.

 

It doesn’t take long or much to bring him off. He screams when he comes, louder than Gamzee and Karkat had been put together, and faceplants into the pillow beside Karkat’s head with no thought for what exactly was all over his face.

 

Karkat sighs, and resigns himself to alchemating new pillowcases and sheets,  _ again,  _ most likely with someone nearby and snickering with that stupid knowing look. 

 

“‘s in m’ hair,” Dave moans into the pillow, and Gamzee starts giggling before Karkat does. Dave turns his head to speak into the open air of the room. “You fuckers, this isn’t funny, that shit stains. I’m too freakin’ blond for this.”  

 

“I’ll apologize when you admit you like it, bulgelicker,” Karkat says, and Gamzee honks in agreement. Dave slaps ineffectually at Karkat’s shoulder, hand caught almost immediately to thread their fingers together.

 

“That’s gay,” Dave says.

 

Karkat rolls his eyes, and a large hand attached to a long arm reaches up from the floor to join their hand holding.

 

“So gay,” Dave mutters.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at [this gorgeous blog ;)](ang3lba3.tumblr.com)


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